wedding bells
by glitterypony
Summary: Every girl deserves a wedding. Of broken hearts, trust, kisses, and what-could-have-beens. AU-ish. Oneshot.


**disclaimer: **yes, i own gakuen alice. i own every single thing that is related to gakuen alice. i am the almighty tachibana higuchi. bow down to me. (insert maniacal laughing here) ...no. (sob)

**recommended listening: **depapepe's wedding bell. this is an instrumental piece, btw.

—

—

—

**wedding bells**

"_You held me and said things will get brighter,__  
__And hugged me a little tighter.__  
__You said I'll make it through,__  
__That I'm a true fighter."_

—

—

—

"_Ne, Natsume, aren't these cherry blossoms beautiful?"_

"_Hn."_

"_Natsume!" Gasp. "Natsume?"_

"_There's a petal in your hair."_

"_Oh." Blush. "A-Arigato."_

"_Hn." Hold._

"_N-Natsume!"_

"_Let's go in. You'll catch a cold in this weather."_

"_But—but I want to watch the flowers!"_

"_We can see them from my room. The window's big enough anyway."_

"_Oh…" Smile._

"_Hurry up, I'm cold, Polka."_

"…_thank you, Natsume."_

—

—

Her clear, wide brown eyes gazed solemnly through the large glass window at the blooming Sakura trees while her body perched on the wide window ledge, her back leaning against the cold, wooden wall. Despite her state of wedding attire, the way she sat was laid-back—one slender leg folded on the ledge under her other leg; her unfolded leg swung slowly in the air below the window, the small foot unconsciously twirling around in lazy circles.

—

—

"_Go to sleep, Polka."_

"_Hey, Natsume, why don't you ever call me by my real name?"_

"_Just sleep. Or I'll burn you." Glare._

_Pout. "Fine. Goodnight." Snore._

_Tinytinytiny smile. Whisper. "Goodnight, Mikan."_

—

—

The room was silent and nearly empty until an abrupt knock sounded on the door.

"Come in," the still figure by the window called out.

With a soft click, the door opened and a black-haired, deep purple-eyed woman stepped in gracefully. Soundlessly, her sandaled feet strode across the tiled floor to stop by the window, beside the calm woman.

"Mikan," she greeted in a velvety voice. Her face remained devoid of emotion, though the name escaped her lips with a tinge of concern and curiosity.

The brunette on the ledge tilted her head in recognition and she spoke: "Yes, Hotaru?"

"It's almost time. You should get ready."

"Already?"

Hotaru nodded. "Let's go touch-up. You're such a klutz—your makeup is ugly now, and your dress has flecks of dust on it. Hurry up, you wouldn't want him to wait for you. Baka."

The brunette laughed half-heartedly. "Hotaru!" she whined. "You are so mean!"

A tiny smile played at the amethyst-eyed woman's lips as she took the bride's hand, helped her onto her numb feet, and led her out into the dressing room.

—

—

"_Why are you crying?" Grunt._

_Sniff. "Because—because the doggy died!"_

"_So?"_

"_It's so sad that he died saving his owner…"_

"_Big deal, Polka."_

"_You don't understand, jerkface."_

"_What?"_

"_He protected him because he wanted his owner to live."_

"…"

"_He protected him because he _loved_ him."_

—

—

"Eep! Hotaru! Calm down!" Mikan pleaded, both hands raised in front of her to calm the raging woman. A thick vein bulged from underneath the pale skin and a dark shadow crept over the top half of her face. "Don't be mad! I—I'm sure Permy will be back soon!"

Blazing fire burned within purple pools as their owner loaded up a BakaGun2000.

"I'll be back, Mikan."

"Ho—Hotaruuu!" Mikan's hand shot up to grab at her best friend, but the woman had already rushed out the door, hunting for a certain curly-haired idiot. The bride was left alone in the dressing room, and with a sigh, she turned to face the full-length mirror on the wall and studied herself.

—

—

"_Hotaru, have you noticed that Natsume's acting a bit differently?"_

"_Baka. I don't care about your boyfriend."_

"_He's not my boyfriend!"_

"_Baka. I don't know."_

_Frown. "I hope he's okay."_

—

—

She was clad in a vivacious spaghetti-strapped snow-white dress which reached the floor and dragged on in a long trail behind her whenever she walked. Her underskirt was made of the finest satin, topped with layers and layers of chiffon, taffeta, tulle netting, and intricately woven lace. The bodice was interwoven with countless pearls, sequins, rhinestones, and crystal beadings, dipped down at the chest to show a little cleavage, and hugged her petite but now fully-developed hourglass figure. A large white ribbon wrapped around her waist and the ends came together in a large butterfly bow slightly at the right side of her front. Her slender neck was adorned with a lavish silver choker necklace with a diamond teardrop pendant; her ears wore a matching pair of earrings, and her left wrist donned a thin silver bracelet. Her long auburn hair was put in a curled updo, and resting atop the crown of her head was a small crystal-embedded tiara. On her feet were metallic silver open-toed high heels.

Her porcelain face was lightly made-up—just a tad of powder to conceal blemishes and create a matte finish, light rose eyeshadow on her eyelids and shimmery white on her browbone, brown eyeliner on her waterline, black mascara, a light dusting of coral blush on the apples of her cheeks, and a bit of clear lipgloss.

Honestly, she thought with pouted lips, Hotaru didn't have to go hunt Permy down—her makeup was perfectly fine the way—

Her thoughts were cut off as a sharp knock on the door resonated.

"Yes?" she called. Bunching up some of her dress to maneuver easier, she swiveled around and faced the door.

"Mikan?" It was Yuu. "S-someone is here to see you…" For some reason, his voice was shakier and softer than usual. Then, after he spoke, there was a brief moment of murmuring behind the door. "I-I'll be waiting outside!" Footsteps sounded, then grew faint and there were no more.

"Alright!" Mikan made her way to the door and unlatched it.

When the door opened to reveal her visitor, she felt like her feet were glued to the floor; her entire body seemed to be encased in a thick coat of cement—she was frozen… because what stared at her—

—was a pair of fiery, crimson orbs.

—

—

"_Natsume, what are you doing?"_

_Pause. Glance. "I'm packing, Polka."_

"_But… why?"_

"_I…" Deep breath. "I have to go to America."_

"…_nani?"_

"_You heard me." _Go away.

"_Why?"_

"_Aoi's studying abroad, and she wants me with her."_

"…_you're going… and leaving me behind?"_

"_Yes."_

_Sob. "Okay."_

—

—

He stood at her doorway, leaning lazily on the doorframe with his hands in the pockets of his designer black suit, his ruby red pools never leaving her figure.

He was still.

He didn't move.

Nor did she.

She heard no sound at all, save for the erratic pounding of her heart in her chest and her unsteady breathing. Her fingertips trembled at her side, and with a soundless gasp, she brought them to her chest and clamped them in a fist.

She looked at him with wide eyes, and finally mustered up the courage to speak:

"N-Nat—Natsume?" Her shaky acknowledgement was barely audible, as her throat suddenly felt extremely dry.

"…Polka," the raven-haired man greeted. For a few seconds, he looked as if he had something else to say, but decided against it and settled with simply pursing his lips.

Mikan, on the other hand, had _a lot _to say. So, so many words. So many unspoken feelings and questions. So much _anger _and _confusion _burning within her.

"…don't call me that," she said softly. A strange feeling gathered in the pit of her stomach—it was uncomfortable; a churning, twisting feeling that made her slightly nauseous and queasy. She blinked once, twice, and looked down to the floor, suddenly finding the colorful mosaic tiles very interesting. After a few tense minutes of silence, the woman blinked slowly at the men before her. She moved to sit down on the chair in front of the vanity.

For once, Natsume was the first to break the silence.

"Long time no see…Polka."

"I said—don't call me that."

"Polka."

"Natsume."

"Polka."

"Natsume."

"_Polka."_

"Don't call me that!" Mikan exclaimed, slamming her French-manicured hands on the makeup vanity. The mirror shook unstably, and the nail polish bottles on the small table clattered together in protest. "What do you want from me, Natsume?" she hissed, her voice a few octaves lower that the one she'd just used at him. "You're back—now what do you _want?_"

The ruby-eyed male simply exhaled and fixed his smoldering gaze on her form. Alas, he spoke. "I…I came back to see you."

"Your presence here now told me that—thank you very much."

"I wanted to talk to you—"

"—about?" Mikan snapped, abruptly cutting him off. He frowned and glared at her.

"About us."

"There is no 'us'."

"There is."

"No!" she cried. "There isn't! When has there ever been an 'us?' If there was—back _then—_then you've destroyed it with your departure!" Her hands flew into the air as she finished her statement, a telltale sign of how she currently felt.

Mikan was livid, and many other things. This man—this arrogant bastard—believed he had the right suddenly leave six years ago and just walk back into her life like this? Did he not realize how he'd trampled over her heart back then by leaving without even a decent explanation? And now that she was finally getting married—he had to come back and tell her they needed to talk? Who did he think he was!

"Polka—"

"Call me by my name, dammit!"

He sighed. "Mikan, listen."

Her rampage temporarily settled down, and gulping large amounts of air, she relaxed her tense muscles and looked at him. "I don't see why I should."

"Don't…marry Ruka."

"…_what?_"

"…I said, don't marry Ruka."

"..but, _why?" _Her fists clenched. "You're telling me what to do?"

Natsume suddenly stepped up in front of her, and his rough, large hand closed around her small one.

"Natsume…"

"Don't."

"But…why?" She shook her head, eyes never leaving his face. She tugged her hand away, but his grip tightened, and she gave in. "Why?"

Her eyes moved to his garnet pair, and his gaze softened. Before he could control himself, he had already leaned down to plant his lips on hers.

—

—

_"Nii-san?" Curious look._

_Grunt. Shove. "What?"_

_"What are you looking at?" Point._

_Push. "Nothing."_

_"That was a picture_—_who's in that picture?"_

_"No one."_

—

—

They remained that way, indulged in their kiss for a few quiet moments. It was a soft, chaste kiss—nothing lustful or aggressive—but had all of his emotions poured into it.

He was stupid. So, so, so stupid—he knew, he was unbelievably stupid for leaving her back then, and he was so stupid for not coming back until now, but he couldn't desert his little sister in America all alone, could he? That night in his room, when she had caught him silently packing, he had meant to explain everything to her, but time didn't allow for it, because Aoi's flight was to depart in less than two hours that night, and problems with money didn't allow for long-distance calls during their stay in America. And he couldn't write letters to her, for she'd moved out with Imai for some reason. He couldn't deny: in the few years in America without her, he had missed her terribly.

Her lips were soft, so soft, like Howalon, he thought idly as he closed his eyes in bliss. He wondered why he had never taken the initiative to kiss her while they'd been 'together,' but then, he had always been stupid when it came to _her_. Her lips tasted sweet as they moved against his own lips, and it was like eating a strawberry lollipop and chewing blueberry gum and drinking tropical soda all at the same time—

—and then there was saltiness.

His eyes shot open immediately, and he pulled back to study her face.

She was crying.

Thin, clear streaks marred her perfectly made up face, stopping at the bottom of her jawline and the tears dripped down from thereon. Her eyes continued to produce the fluid, and she looked at him with a melancholy look—one that was so _delicate _and sad, his chest tightened painfully.

Why?

Why was she acting this way?

What was he doing wrong?

"Mikan," he rasped, reaching a hand to brush a stray lock of hair out of her wet face.

She turned away, averting her eyes. His outreached hand froze approximately six centimeters away from her. He clenched his fist and withdrew it.

"Why?" her singsong voice shakily asked. It was so soft he could barely hear it. "Why, Natsume?"

"Because," he croaked, clearing his throat once, "I made a mistake."

"You did."

"And I intend to fix it."

"Fix it?" she echoed, slightly scoffing. She stopped crying, wiped her tears away and blinked before commenting, "You can't fix something that's already broken. Broken beyond repair."

"Polka—"

"Don't, Natsume." She shook her head slowly, dejectedly. "Don't."

"Polka."

"I think I'm done here. I've had enough. You just walked out of my life six years ago without giving me a decent explanation, and you never contacted me. I was devastated. I was hopeless. I felt so lost, so lonely, you know?" She glanced at Natsume, noting the guilty and pained expression he held on his features. "I felt so deserted, like you…didn't _want _me anymore. But then I realized how Ruka stayed with me all along.

"He stayed by my side every day after you left; when I walked to each class, when I ate my meals, when I had nothing to do. He did _everything _he could for me, and he made me feel like I still had somebody, besides Hotaru. He was sweet, understanding, considerate, and he would tell me whatever I wanted to know…He did everything for me that you didn't."

"Mikan…"

"And I think…I love him, Natsume. I think I love Ruka now."

Natsume blinked slowly and dipped his head, letting his long inky bangs hide his eyes away.

"You know what else?" Mikan inquired quietly. "You've missed your chance."

"Mikan." The duo snapped their attention to the open door, where Hotaru stood with a jar of half-eaten crab brains.

"Ah, Hotaru?" The bride's lips curved up into an adoring smile.

"Permy disappeared. And it's time, anyway."

"Ah, okay!" Mikan chirped, not minding the crimson-eyed man in the room with her. She adjusted her veil, checked her face in the mirror, and put on her white gloves before rushing up beside her best friend.

She turned and gave one last look to Natsume.

"Goodbye Natsume," she said in a breathy voice.

She left him in the room alone, dragging Hotaru with her to the church front, where she would become Mrs. Nogi.

Although Hotaru said nothing, she saw fresh, glistening trails of tears streaming down the cheeks of the bride.

—

—

The wedding bells chimed clearly from the church tower, and soon the building broke out in cheers, whistles, and applause.

The joyous laugh of a certain brunette could be clearly heard.

—

—

As could the sound of her heart breaking all over again.

—

—

—

"_You gave me a kiss lightly on my forehead,__  
__'I'm here for you always,' is what you said."_

—

—

—

**author's note: **le sigh. nine pages of nonsensical drabbly stuff in microsoft word. there may or may not be a sequel to this. reviews would be lovely. (:


End file.
